ULCH HISTORY GOT made by ’lowing me the novelness of a trial, but they didn’t lose no time in their charging, convicting and condamning drills. After my licking, they hauled me up out a the mud and got right to it. Dawn warn’t even completely broke. They was dragging me straight to the tree where that country boy was a-dangling, but Eyepatch stopped them and says that warn’t sivilized, they had to give testimony and take a vote, and THEN hang me.
Eyepatch he was the persecuter, his pal Bill whose hand I shot was chairman of the jury, and his other pal Pegleg, who was earless and couldn’t read or write, was who they give me like a lawyer. Yaller Whiskers was the judge and the jury was all the scoundrels left over, mostly sick red-eyed emigrants just raising up from the mud or crawling out a their shackly wagons, not knowing what they was s’posed to be doing or even where in creation they was, but madder’n hell. To keep order in the court, Eyepatch hired on them two ugly pock-faced robbers who nearly done old Deadwood in, and they watched over the trial doings like turkey buzzards with clubs in their claws and their hat brims down over their beaks.
One a the robbers raised up his gold fob watch and says it’s time to get the blamed thing over with. Bill told his jury to ca’m down or he’d see personal to them being horsewhipped. There was some loud cussing in objection to his pronouncement, some declaring it was just as toothless as he was and stunk even worse, but Bill fired off some shots into the air with his good hand, and that settled the matter.
Eyepatch shoved a thumb in his waistband and raired back and declared that I was an arched crinimal who was on trial for the gashly Bear-Claw Murder. He held up my good-luck neckless and says they found it fastened like a noose round old Zeb’s throat, his both eyes popping their last pop, and all his traps and his packhorse stole, and he asks me if the neckless was mine. I says I give it to Zeb for good luck, and he says to shut up and answer his question: Was it mine? I says it was, but—and he cut me off again and says it didn’t bring nuther of us much luck, did it? And them loafers all had a good hoot.
I was in a tight place. Zeb’s killers was my accusers and judges, but if I raired a fuss and said so, Eyepatch’d just laugh and turn the others loose on me. They was only looking for an invite, feeling monstrous sick and unhappy. I couldn’t spy half a friend among them.
“And whar did this string a heathen julery come from, genlmen a the jury? Why, from them filthy iggorant Sooks who the killer has been pallin’ round with! You want to know whar your vegilanty rifles has got to? Ask them war-pathin’ redskins that give him this neckless in thanks for all he done for ’em! Finn ain’t only a cold-bloody murderer, genlmen, he’s a traiter to all white Christians everywheres! He’s a traiter to YOU’N ME!”
His rising voice had all them rapscallions roused up and it warn’t sure he could hold them back if they took after me. Already I was getting punched and kicked by the nearest ones. Worse, Eyepatch was right in parts, I couldn’t deny it. Helping Eeteh the way I done so’s we’d be free to leave together was a low-down thing. Ain’t never done a low-downer thing. But what was the low-downest of all was I warn’t sorry for it. I would hive them rifles for him all over again. I only wished I hain’t been such a fool as to go and get caught. That was the most low-downest thing I done: letting Eeteh down. I was feeling terrible worried and sorry about him, but at least they warn’t passing his head around like a trophy, so maybe he got away.
“And that ain’t ALL!” Eyepatch says. “Him and his brother and his dog catched the POX and they didn’t TELL no one—did any a you ever hear of it? NO! Them flat-heads went on recklessly spreadin’ their mortal sickness round THE WHOLE TERRITORY! They wanted everybody to catch it like they catched it theirselves! Now the brother is dead, the dog is dead, only this KILLER is still a-kickin’! But, genlmen—” he looked around at them all with his glittery one eye—“he only’s got JEST ONE KICK LEFT!”
They was all a-whooping and hollering for justice and saying they had to hang me NOW! They had a terrible itch in their pants and couldn’t wait no more. Yaller Whiskers had a hammer for a gavel, and he was belting a stump with it like he was trying to split it for kindling, and yelling for them to just hang on, ding-bust it, they’ll all get their chance.
“And even THAT ain’t all!” hollered Eyepatch above the ruckus. There still warn’t much light in the sky. The day was slow at waking up like it was afraid to open its eyes. “He also shot our jury boss when there warn’t no warrant for it and ruint his hand so bad the pore man cain’t even pan for gold no more! Jest look at it! Hold it up thar, Bill! Ain’t that the horriblest mess you ever seen? If Finn ain’t been such a bad shot, he would a killt him, cuz he’s a natural-born crippler and killer! Why, jest last night he give our feller Gulch citizen Deadhead an unmerciless hiding that peart nigh destroyed the ole rip!”